


henna tattoo

by tabfics



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt, Emotions, Ficlet, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, No Smut, Post-Watford (Simon Snow), Simon has a henna tattoo, SnowBaz, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Has Feelings, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Gay for Simon Snow, baz does not like tattoos, emotional baz, gaaaaay, someone plz tell me if i used that tag right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21677467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tabfics/pseuds/tabfics
Summary: simon gets a henna tattoo of baz's name on his wrist and baz does NOT like that. chaos ensues. but there's a happy ending!!!
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 2
Kudos: 79





	henna tattoo

**Author's Note:**

> hi i just thought u all should know i originally wrote this whole fic in comic sans. hope u enjoy <3
> 
> \- kelsey

“What did you do, Snow?” 

Baz stood in front of me, his eyebrows are furrowed so much it’s almost comical. _Almost_. But I’m not allowed to laugh right now. He’s mad at me. 

“I got a henna tattoo,” I reply, grinning. He throws a hand through his sleek hair and grabs my wrist, he’s shaking his head. He looks so disappointed. 

“Of my name.” 

“Of your name,” I say. He drops my hand and sighs. “But it’s fading.” 

“Good.” 

I frown. “I thought I did something nice.” 

He presses his index finger and thumb to the bridge of his nose. “Simon--you don’t tattoo anyone’s name anywhere.” 

I shrug. “It’s a henna tattoo. It goes away,” I say, and maybe I’m a little irritated at this point. I did something nice and I thought he would like it. But he didn’t. Now he’s just angry and spewing, he probably thinks I’m stupid. “I made this decision myself, Baz.” 

He shakes his head again, I can see his fangs when he grimaces, which isn’t often. He’s shaken up by this, or at least flustered enough that he doesn’t know what to do. I never see his fangs. Not unless he’s starving at dinner, and even then, he barely eats in front of me. 

“Simon--” 

And then I know it’s bad because he never calls me that. _Shit_. 

“Baz,” I say again, but I draw it out. I try to make it sound stern because I want him to listen to me, but it just ends up sounding like I need to cough. I cough, you know, to cover it up. “I made this decision myself,” I repeat, though it feels silly. 

“I don’t want my fucking name on your wrist, okay?” He yells, then jumps a little bit as if he’s shocked by how harsh it came out. His posture and expression softens and he looks at me with his doe eyes. It throws me off. “It’s just… what if something happens to us? Then you won’t be able to remove that decision.” 

I shake my head. “Nothing is going to happen to us.” 

“Okay, Simon, but what if something does? I don’t want you to carry me on you forever. That’s such a heavy weight, I don’t care if we’re in love or not.” 

“It’s just a henna tattoo… It’ll fade,” I murmur, I don’t even realize when I’m not looking at him anymore and instead staring at my shoes. 

“I love you, Simon, I really do,” I hear his voice lull. He comes closer, I step back. I don’t understand why he’s so caught up about this. It’s a stupid fucking temporary tattoo. It’s not our whole life. The henna is going to go away. Now he’s making it seem like he’s going to go away too. 

“I love you too,” I say. “Are you planning on breaking up with me, Baz?” 

His eyes widen as he looks at me. He steps closer, this time I don’t pull away. I let him embrace me in a hug, I feel the warmth of his lips as they press against my lips. He’s warm. He’s never this warm. 

“I’m not going to break up with you,” he says. “Never.” 

I cradle the back of his neck with one of my palms. “Then why are you so upset, Baz?” 

He sighs softly, his breath quivering. _That’s new_ . I hear him mumble a little under his breath, then his breath catches. He seems so lost. Then, I hear the sharp noise of a sob break from his throat. That’s _extremely_ new. 

“Woah, Baz, what’s wrong? Did I say something wrong?” 

He wraps his arms around me as tightly as he can and grabs at my wings. “I love you. I would never break up with you, Simon.” 

He’s crying so hard, I’ve never seen him like this. I don’t know how to react. I don’t know what to say. I say, “I know… I know.” 

He shakes his head into my neck and it rocks my entire body. I hold him tighter. 

“I’m so sorry, Simon,” He sobs. It feels so unreal, that he’s breaking down in front of me. That it’s not me breaking in front of _him_ for once. That I… caused _this_. 

“Baz… Do you really think I don’t want you? That I don’t want this?” I ask him, but he’s such a mess that he can’t reply. He keeps getting caught up in his sobs, he’s coughing and he’s crying and he’s so fucking _warm_ \--it’s crazy. It’s weird. I don’t know if I like it or not. 

I push up his head to look at me, it’s almost immediate that he rests his forehead to mine and closes his eyes, still weeping. He’s so tired, I can see it. His face is flushed, his eyes have drawn out purple bags hanging beneath and he’s shaking so hard in my arms. I keep him close. 

“I’m always worried that I’m not good enough for you, Simon,” he spits out, a stuttering and coughing mess. It breaks my heart; I don’t know what to say. 

I say, “Baz, if anything, I’m not good enough for _you_.” 

He shakes his head. “You’re so real, Simon. You’re bold and you’re fiery and you’re fucking gorgeous in everything you do. I could never be like that. I’m so mean… I’m so cold and I push you away whenever I need you most. I’m a horrible person, Simon,” he cries, bashing his forehead into mine accidentally before rapidly pulling away. I take the opportunity to raise my hands to his face and caress his hollow cheeks, resting my thumbs on his cheekbones. I make him look at me, and he does. 

“You’re not a horrible person,” I tell him. He tries to shake his head, but I hold him firmly and don’t let him. He bites his lip. “Fuck, Baz, I don’t know what to say. I never thought that you felt this way.” 

He whispers, “I never told you.” 

I scoff. “No, I never think. I should have thought before I got the henna… I didn’t know you would be so upset.” 

That strikes a key with him, because then he’s crying again and he’s trying to wriggle out of my grasp but I don’t let him. 

“Did I say something wrong?” I ask again, like a total idiot. I pull him to my chest again and rub his back, he relaxes and lets himself go, even if it means my shirt is soaked with his tears. I’ve never seen him cry before. Not even when I almost died after I killed the mage! I’ve never seen him like this. 

“Crowley, Simon, it’s not about the fucking tattoo!” He sobs, his voice shattering under the pressure of his tears. He grabs at my wings and I let him, even if it hurts when he digs his fingers into the webbing. He pushes them against my back and pulls them out as he digs his head deeper into the crook of my neck. I’m amazed, if I’m being completely honest. He’s so upset. I didn’t know he had this many emotions inside of him. He’s always so suave and cool, I never knew he felt this way. _I’m such a dumbass._ I never think. 

“What’s it about then?” I ask, loudly. He shakes his head so violently I almost tumble over, I fall back a few steps and he falls right with me, gripping to my wings. It feels like they’re ripping apart under his grasp and the way he tugs at them and fidgets with them. I let him do it though, I don’t say anything. 

“Why do you want me, Simon?” He asks, muffled in my skin. 

I sigh and entwine my hand in his long, beautiful hair. I rub his head and let him calm down before I speak, hushing and rocking him in our kitchen. 

“Because I love you. Because you love me. Because you’re amazing, and beautiful, and graceful, and fucking ruthless. Because you’re mine, and I don’t want to let you go.” 

He lets himself unlatch himself from my wings and he holds my neck as he pulls himself away to look at me. “You really think that?” 

I nod. “Of course I do.” 

His eyes are sparkling, I ache knowing that he doesn’t think of himself in that way. Because he’s amazing. He’s so amazing. I love him so much, and he doesn’t think so. He doesn’t think he deserves it--which is bullshit because he deserves it more than anyone. He’s been through so much with me, he’s done so much for me. I’m indebted to him, and I want to be for the rest of my life. I want to be with him for that long. I want us to last forever. I’m done with tragedies, I’m finally happy. I just wish he was too. 

“Baz, you’re the best person I know,” I say, even though I haven’t given him a chance to reply. “I love you so fucking much, you don’t even understand,” I say, laughing a little bit as I do. He sees the grin on my face and touches it with his slender fingertips, his lips curling as he touches mine. 

“I love you, Simon,” he whispers, hand unmoving from where they rest on my lips. 

I take his hand in mine and bring his palm to my mouth where I kiss, remembering how I did the same thing when my cross burnt his hand in the forest. When we first kissed-- _fuck_. I forgot about that. 

I kinda want to kiss him like that again. 

He brings his hand back to his chest and he smiles--he smiles so wide his fangs pop and we both giggle when they do. He doesn’t try to put them back, he doesn’t dig for his wand to magick them, he just smiles and god _damn_ is he so absolutely glittering when he does it. I think my heart skipped a few beats. 

“And you say vampires don’t sparkle,” I mutter, to which he smacks my arm and smiles wider--which I absolutely and wholly _adore_. He’s so cute, which I never thought I would describe Baz as. I laugh. “You look so beautiful right now, baby.” 

His eyes honey over with the endearment term, he looks delirious in happiness. I hope I can see him like this every day for the rest of our lives--it’s infectious. He’s infectious. He’s beautiful--I don’t even know anymore adjectives. He’s just so fucking _gorgeous_. 

I inhale and grin at him, knocking our foreheads together. He giggles. I ask, “Can I kiss you?” 

He nods, bringing his hands up to ruffle my hair and snort when I jump a little bit at the suddenness of it. I scrunch my nose up and he does the same, goofing around right beside me. I never thought he would do that. I thought we were going to be that posh-lovey type, but I’m so glad this isn’t that. This is raw. This is happy. This is beautiful. He’s beautiful. 

I dive in and kiss him, I feel his fangs against my lips and I don’t try to avoid them. I kiss him and it’s so much better than the first time, which I didn’t think was possible. Baz has defied everything I ever thought about him, and I love it. I love him. 

When we’re out of breath and slung against the counter together, wrapped up in each other’s arms and slouching over one another, he giggles. He’s quiet, but he’s giggling and it makes me feel some sort of ecstasy rise within my stomach. There’s lots of serotonin involved. 

“Maybe I’ll keep the tattoo,” I mumble as the two of us look down at my wrist. He holds it with his hand and snorts. 

“Absolutely not, Snow,” He orders, stumbling over his feet as if he’s drunken to set another kiss on my lips. “That font is hideous.” 

I scoff. “Maybe I’ll get a little Edward Cullen on my neck, what do you think about that?” 

He smacks my ass from where he stands beside me and I break out laughing, pulling him towards me. “So that’s a no?” I ask. 

“What’s with you and tattoos?” 

I shrug. “I think I want to get one.” 

He nods. “Not my name though.” 

“And obviously not Edward Cullen.” 

He rolls his eyes. “What about a little set of wands? Like to remember Watford or something?” 

I shake my head. “I’m thinking of maybe a spell.” 

He cocks an eyebrow and drops his head on my shoulder. “A spell?” He asks, looking up at me. 

I nod. “I’m thinking maybe ‘On love’s light wings’,” I say, biting my lip. I know how much the spell means to him, and how much it meant to me when he used it for me. It’s such a beautiful spell. _Just like him._

He breaks out into a huge grin. “That would be beautiful, Simon.” 

I dance a little and pull him along with me. “You really think so?” 

He nods eagerly and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me into the living room of our apartment. Our apartment—I love that. (Even if it’s technically mine and Penny’s. But she’s always out on adventures with Shepard.) 

“Okay,” I grin. “But you’re going to have to deal with the henna tattoo for a little while longer.” 

He pushes me down onto the couch and sets himself above me, laughing as he falls on top of me and snuggles into my chest. “I can deal.” 

“Good,” I say, hugging him closer. He hums in contentment and snuggles his head in deeper. I comb his hair with my fingers again and bite my lip. 

“Do you want to get matching tattoos?” I ask him, to which he blows raspberries into my neck. 

“Nope.” 

I shrug and flick at his head. “Okay.” 

He says, “That doesn’t mean I love you any less though.” 

“I know.” 

“I love you, Snow,” he says. I can't help but grin when he tries to put himself back in the personality he was in before. But I know now how much of a cover that is for the adorable person he really is—so I push it a little bit. 

I say, “You called me Simon.” 

He’s dug into my shirt but he rolls his eyes—I just know it. 

“Okay. I love you, _Simon_.” 

I pat his head in affirmation. 

“I love you too, buddy.” 

“Buddy?” He snorts, then jokingly hits me in the jaw. “I’m not your _buddy_.” 

“That’s right. You’re the love of my life.” 

He raises his head up to look at me and I wink at him. He blushes. 

“Even if you don’t like my sick ass henna tattoo.” 

He groans, then sighs and props himself up to make proper face-to-face eye contact with me. “I love you, Simon. Even with your stupid ass henna tattoo.”


End file.
